


Aftereffects

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Makeshift Surgery, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Relationship, Surgery, because why not, this is really just an excuse for whump and some Loki and Valkyrie interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: Loki takes a minor wound in the battle against Hela's forces. It's just a scratch, until it isn't.





	Aftereffects

**Author's Note:**

> Because instead of working on stressful plot stuff, I do...this. Partially indebted to [gaslightgallows](http://gaslightgallows.tumblr.com) for bringing me ever deeper into the idea of Valkyrie and Loki (or Valkyrie/Loki). Also all the people who suggested ways to make Loki collapse post-Ragnarok. I'm not going to write all of them, but I'll probably end up writing a few. I am who I am.
> 
> Thanks to my beta [Amelia](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), infinitely patient and endlessly encouraging.

Alone in his assigned quarters after the coronation-that-wasn’t, Loki sat down on the cot and waved his leathers away. 

The wound wasn’t particularly deep, or particularly bad. It throbbed unpleasantly where it cut across his ribs, but it was hardly anything dire. He’d dealt with a great deal worse; the proof of that was just a few inches above this new scratch. 

He pulled his emergency kit of supplies out of the dimension where he usually kept it and dabbed some disinfecting salve over the wound. He hissed for the sting, but it certainly wasn’t unmanageable, and wrapped some bandaging loosely around his middle. It wasn’t even deep enough to need stitches. 

Though he’d certainly felt it when Thor had hugged him - _hugged_ him, really, for the first time in six years. Full-body, rib-compressing, like those six years had built up and he was trying to make up for all of them in one go. 

_Ow,_ Loki had thought, sharp pain stabbing through his middle, but he couldn’t have told Thor to stop. And even if he’d _wanted_ to...he very much did not want Thor fussing over what was really, truly, nothing. Not to mention Thor finding out about this would mean Thor seeing the other scars, which would mean a long conversation he really did not want to have. Not now, and probably not ever. 

Loki finished his bandaging and started to stretch, only to stop when the pull at his wound brought him up short. He scowled. 

He was just going to have to move carefully for a little while until it healed. It shouldn’t take all that long, and it wasn’t as though there were going to be a great many demands on him. Soon it would heal, and hopefully soon afterwards this whole sorry chapter would be behind them. 

(Except for the ship full of refugees, and Thor’s missing eye, and the Tesseract burning a hole in his metaphorical pocket, and…

No, this was never going to be behind them. Thinking you could ever leave anything behind had been Odin’s delusion. He was going to try to avoid taking it up.)

* * *

Loki woke up from a satisfyingly deep and dreamless sleep, and when he tried to sit up his stomach muscles screamed in righteous fury. He fell back almost immediately with a groan, putting a hand to his stomach. He flinched, the skin still tender to the touch even with the layer of bandages. 

This time when he tried to sit up it was a great deal slower. He still groaned like an old door creaking open, but by the time he was upright, however much he was sweating, he didn’t feel like lying back down. 

At least he didn’t actually have to go through the difficult motions of getting dressed. Loki just used magic instead, though he still winced at the pressure of his clothes on the sensitive skin. He waited until the pain ebbed a little, pulled himself together (enough), and left the safety of his room. 

Thor smiled when he saw Loki like he’d half expected him to have vanished (which, on retrospect, he well might have). The smile vanished quickly, though. “What happened to you?” 

“Pardon?” Loki said, a little taken aback. Thor gestured at him. 

“You look like. Well.” He paused, probably over the word _shit._ Loki scowled at him. 

“Thank you, first of all,” he said caustically. “And secondly - it’s unsurprising. We just went through a battle. I raised Surtur from the dead to set Asgard on fire. And you electrocuted me for a good thirty minutes.” 

Thor blinked. “That long? I thought for sure you would get out of it before that.” 

Loki stared at him. “ _Thor._ ” 

“What?” 

“You-” Loki cut off and huffed, loudly. “I can’t _believe_ you. Well, no. I didn’t.”

Thor, at least, did look a bit guilty. “Oh. Do you...need to rest more?” 

“No,” Loki said firmly, though as if to spite him, the wound pulsed unpleasantly. “I am quite well enough to pull my weight.” 

Thor eyed him critically, but he nodded at last, turning away. “If you say so. I could certainly use the help.” 

That shouldn’t have warmed Loki as much as it did. Or at least, warmed him until he glanced over and saw the Valkyrie watching him with her eyes narrowed.

“What?” He asked snappishly. She shrugged. 

“Nothing, probably,” she said. Loki scowled at her. 

“‘Nothing, probably?’” 

“That’s what I said.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “So, are we going to talk about the reason we’re supposed to be having this meeting, or can I just get back to my booze?” 

At least now Thor was frowning at someone else. Loki sat down and held back a groan. It was going to be a long day. 

* * *

Whatever the dead soldier had cut him with, it wasn’t healing well. Loki studied it critically in the mirror he’d conjured up, troubled by the fact that it didn’t seem to have closed, still looking as raw as it had yesterday. 

It didn’t _look_ infected, though. It looked...like a normal wound, except for the slowness of its healing. Frowning, Loki delved it with a touch of magic, just in case, but he couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. After staring at himself for a while, he sighed and just reapplied the ointment he’d used before, wincing for the tenderness of his flesh. 

Logically, he knew it would probably be best to go to the healers. Even thinking about doing so made his stomach lurch nervously, though, and it really wasn’t _that_ bad. Not serious, at any rate, and there was already enough for their overtaxed resources to deal with. Better to deal with it himself. 

Putting his clothes back on, he rolled his shoulders until they popped, muscle loosening a little, and began going through his stretches. He only made it about halfway through before he was sweating, stomach muscles protesting. Loki huffed, annoyed, but left off.

He went looking for Thor, out of some obscure fear that if he didn’t, Thor might think he’d left. He found him standing in the cargo bay looking grim. 

“Bad news, I assume,” Loki said. Thor turned his head right to look at him, stopped, and then turned fully around. 

“I’m starting to think there’s no other kind,” he said. “I looked at the supply manifest. It’s...dismal. We’re low on almost everything necessary. On the bright side, there’s quite a lot of alcohol, so Val should be fine for a while.” 

Loki made a face. “We’ll just have to stop for supplies. Soon. At least the alcohol gives us something to barter with.” 

“At least,” Thor said, and sighed. He looked at Loki. “How are you?” 

“Fantastic,” Loki said easily. Thor just looked at him, and Loki shrugged. The cut across his stomach throbbed as if in defiance. “What kind of question is that?”

“A question for my brother,” Thor said.

“Just wondering if there’s any particular reason you’re asking.” Thor said nothing, and Loki bit off a laugh. “Trying to gauge the likelihood of me running off?” 

“No,” Thor said quickly, in a tone that suggested _yes._ “I was just _asking._ You’re so - _prickly._ ”

“That’s me,” Loki said. “One of those - cacti.” Thor just looked at him, and Loki sighed. “I’m not going to leave.”

“Good,” Thor said after a pause. “That’s...good.” 

“Why ask,” Loki said dryly, “if you won’t believe me?” 

Thor didn’t answer. “Let me turn that question back on you,” Loki said. 

“I am fine,” Thor said staunchly. Loki laughed. 

“Now who is the liar?” 

“I am,” Thor insisted. “Things are - difficult. But I am managing. Asgard will endure. Our people are strong, and…”

“Thor,” Loki said, “you know you don’t have to be certain of everything, all the time. If you ask me, that was one of the worst things about Odin. He thought he was always right.” Thor gave him a sharp look, but to Loki’s surprise did not speak to disagree. 

“Perhaps,” he said, finally. “But...I cannot afford to show doubt.” 

_Even to me?_ Loki thought, but he supposed perhaps Thor thought _especially to you._ He left that alone and just said, “you’re still allowed to feel it.” 

“I suppose.” Thor glanced at him. “So there _is_ still some sense in you.” Loki stiffened, but Thor gave him a half a smile. “I missed that, you know.” 

Loki looked away. “I don’t know why. You seem to have acquired some of your own when I wasn’t looking.” 

“Well, yes,” Thor said, “but that isn’t the same as hearing it from someone else.”

For a split second, Loki felt almost guilty. Then Thor clapped him on the shoulder and he almost gasped for the burst of pain through his midsection. “I’m glad to have you back,” he said. “Properly this time. I’m going to need your help.”

Pain or not, warmth bloomed in Loki’s chest. Thor _needed_ him. 

What was one small scratch against that? 

* * *

He’d gone soft. 

It was the conclusion Loki came to, when he woke up with his wound on fire, sensitive enough that he flinched from touching it. One little hurt and he was going to pieces. He should be able to endure better than this. It couldn’t possibly hurt as much as it felt like it did. It still _looked_ fine; he’d checked with magic again, but there was no sign of infection whatsoever, or any hint of magical abnormality.

He was just - not used to pain anymore.

And if it felt hard to drag himself out of bed and to work, through the daily tasks of keeping the ship running, aiding Thor with whatever needed doing - he was just tired. Healing took energy, and it had been, as he’d told Thor, a wearying couple of weeks. 

_Just go have someone look at it,_ murmured a voice at the back of his mind. _Coward._ He shoved it down. It wasn’t _necessary._ He’d never liked healers, and now...now he liked them even less. Better to deal with a little pain than panic and lose his mind in front of everyone. He could just see it: the second prince throwing a fit like a wild animal. 

No, thank you. 

He noticed the Valkyrie watching him across the room, her eyes narrowed, and tried to ignore it. It was only moderately effective, and eventually he rounded on her. “What?” 

“Something bothering you?” She asked. It sounded pointed. Loki checked his posture, but he couldn’t think of anything that she would have noticed. Maybe there was a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, but it was warm in this room.

Wasn’t it?

“You staring at me,” he said. One of her eyebrows twitched. 

“I’d think you’d like the attention.” 

Thor snorted, poorly muffled. Loki scowled at him. As if it knew he was being watched, the cut flared with sudden, sharp pain and he just managed not to bend and gasp with it. He suspected he did go white, though, and hoped it was taken for anger. 

“In this case I don’t feel particularly flattered,” he said. 

She stood up and walked over to him, and Loki tensed, but she just looked him over head to toe. “You’re sweating,” she said. 

“Heat,” Loki said. “Not nerves.” 

“Hm,” she said, but she turned around and backed off. Loki frowned after her, wondering what, exactly, she suspected. Probably nothing. Probably she was just, in familiar parlance, fucking with him. 

That sounded about right.

That night, he collapsed into bed without changing the bandaging, and slept with the blanket off. The pressure on his stomach hurt too much.

* * *

Loki didn’t get out of bed the next day. Or the next. He was dimly aware that he was sick, feverish, and those were both bad signs, but it was probably just - that he was pushing himself too hard. If he gave his body a chance to rest, he told himself, he’d start healing properly. 

If he could _get_ rest. It was hard to sleep when the pulses of pain from his wound had gone from intermittent to almost constant. But at least now and then he could doze, and thus far no one seemed to have noticed he was gone. Thor must be busy. Distracted. 

That was actually - a good thing. Loki did not want Thor to see him like this.

Only now _someone_ was knocking on his door. Banging, really, loud enough that he could feel the knocking in his skull. Loki groaned and started to sit up, only to stop short at the pain ripping across his stomach. “Go away,” he said, though it came out sounding a little slurred. 

“So you _are_ still there,” said the Valkyrie’s voice through the door. “I was starting to wonder. Long time no see.”

Loki put a hand over his eyes. “Yes, I’m still here. Please leave.” 

“Huh,” she said. Loki took a deep breath and almost whimpered. He felt like he’d sweated through every layer of clothing he was wearing, and was also shivering. This was...a problem. But it was _his_ problem. Not an inebriated Valkyrie’s. 

“Go back to scrounging for alcohol or whatever it is you do,” Loki said.

She kicked the door in. Loki shot upright and then gasped, feeling like he was going to be sick. She took one look at him and her lips pressed together. “Yeah,” she said, “that’s what I thought.” 

“Get out of my room,” Loki said, though it was more of a wheeze. That - really, _really_ hurt. 

“Take off your shirt,” she said. Loki summoned a sickly smile. 

“Rain check? I’m flattered, but I’m really not in the-”

“Shirt off, asshole.” 

Loki stared at her, and considered stripping for the drama of it, but the prospect of moving that much made him want to lie down on the floor and whimper. So he just forced himself to straighten and snapped his fingers, trying to look defiant. To his relief, she didn’t comment on the scar on his chest, though he could see her noticing it. 

A brief tic spasmed in the Valkyrie’s jaw. “Bandages off,” she said. Loki almost gulped. He hadn’t changed them for a couple days, not quite willing to dare trying. He _knew_ something was wrong. If he didn’t look at it, though, it couldn’t be as bad as he feared it was.

That made sense.

“Um,” he said, trying to think of a good reason to refuse. He made himself stand. “This is really - quite enough. I don’t need-”

She walked over and pushed him down embarrassingly easily. She pulled out a knife. “You do it or I do,” she said. Loki blinked at her, eyes widening and not at all sure that she wasn’t talking about just gutting him if he didn’t do as she said.

Well, _fine._ How bad could it be? 

Loki started peeling the bandages away. One layer down and he became aware of a faint, unpleasant odor. His stomach turned but Loki kept going, not letting himself flinch, staring directly at the Valkyrie, until he reached the last layer and started to peel it away from his skin. 

It was sticking a little. He pulled harder and felt something give; pain and nausea stopped him dead and he sucked in a breath. The Valkyrie’s expression was grim. 

“One of them cut you, didn’t they,” she said. Loki blinked at her, feeling suddenly dizzy. 

“One of...what?” 

“Hela’s soldiers,” she said. “The dead.”

“Just a scratch,” Loki said weakly. The Valkyrie swore. 

“I knew it,” she said. “I _knew_ I sensed something.” She crouched down, swatting his hands away, and pulled the bandage roughly away. 

Loki clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his howl. The smell of something gone _off_ suddenly filled his nose and he couldn’t help but look down at himself. 

He’d expected something angry, red, swollen. Infected. Maybe some - some pus. Almost _hoped_ for it - finally, there would be some explanation for how he’d been feeling.

Oh, no. The edges of his _scratch_ had gone - black. Dead flesh. 

“Yeah,” the Valkyrie said. “That’s what I was afraid of.” 

Loki swallowed hard. “Oh,” he said, swaying a little. 

“That’s what their swords do,” she said. “Surprised we haven’t seen more of it; maybe some species are immune. I’ve seen it before: one little cut, seems harmless. Doesn’t heal, but doesn’t show any signs of infection, either - at least not to the eye. I thought I noticed some of the early warning signs on you, though.” She blew out a breath through her teeth and swore. “Idiot.” 

“And what…” Loki took a shallow breath, feeling dizzy. “What happens then?”

She gestured at him. “It goes black, starts to spread. A week later they’re rotting from the outside in.” 

Loki opened his mouth, closed it. “Oh,” he said again, and fainted.

* * *

He woke up to extensive and rather impressive swearing, and then an impassioned, “ _fuck._ If you die on me, you asshole fucker prince, I _swear-_ ”

“I’m not dead, Val,” he managed. The swearing stopped.

“Well, _good,_ ” she said, and if it was caustic, Loki thought she might be genuinely relieved. “Now that we’ve got that squared away, we’re going to see a healer.” 

“No,” Loki rasped, wishing he dared try to sit up, but he was pretty sure that ‘flat on his back on the bed’ was the best thing he could be doing right now. “No, we’re not.”

“Okay,” the Valkyrie said, “so you just want to lie here until you die? That sounds like a fantastic idea. Can you stand up or do I have to carry you?” 

Loki opened one eye to stare at her. “If you try I _will_ stab you,” he said. “No healers.” 

“Did you miss the part where I said that this stuff _spreads?_ ” Loki said nothing, and she exhaled harshly. “Why? Is this a pride thing?” 

Loki closed his eye again, relieved that apparently she wasn’t going to force the issue. “It’s complicated.” 

“Are you scared of healers?” Her voice mocked, but Loki felt himself tense. “Wait,” she said, sounding incredulous. “ _Really?_ ”

“I don’t particularly like strangers around me when I’m - weakened,” he said tightly, which was only about a third of the truth. 

“Come _on._ They’re healers.” The Valkyrie exhaled. “This is ridiculous. And I bet you aren’t even in good enough condition to stab me, anyway. Plus, I’ll stab back. So keep your knives to yourself and let’s go before you die on account of being too stupid to take care of this earlier-”

“No,” Loki said more vehemently, his heartbeat spiking. “I said-” He needed to give her more. “It’s just - bad memories. That’s all.” Healing and torture, Loki had learned, could be two sides of the same coin. 

He could feel the Valkyrie staring at him and groped for his magic in case she tried to ignore his wishes. His entire abdomen felt like one great mass of pain, though, and he was half sure that if she moved him, he would vomit and then pass out. 

“That why you didn’t go to a healer - by looks of that scar - when you were…” She paused. “I’m gonna say impaled?” 

Loki slumped in relief, glad that she was apparently neither going to press the issue nor demand more information. “Among other reasons.” He took a breath that he had to stop halfway through because it felt like he was going to split open. “If you’ve...seen this before. You must know how to treat it.” 

“You can’t treat it,” she said. Loki’s heart stuttered. 

“Ah,” he said weakly. He imagined it. Lying here, rotting by inches, dying. He should probably tell Thor, then. He’d be - _so_ angry. _Again?_ Loki could almost hear him say, aggrieved, and wanted to laugh. 

_Third time’s the charm, isn’t it?_

He felt dizzy.

“All you can do,” the Valkyrie said, “is - cut out the dead flesh and hope for the best.”

“Oh,” Loki said, a little hysterical. “That’s all?” 

“Will you go see a healer _now?_ ”

Loki swallowed several times, convulsively. “You have a knife, don’t you?” He said weakly. Silence.

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Perfectly,” Loki said. 

“I’m as likely to gut you as fix you,” she said. Loki found a weak smile.

“On accident, I’d hope.” 

She made a disgusted noise. “How stupid _are_ you?” 

“Just stupid enough, usually,” Loki said. He felt light-headed, a little delirious. 

“If I kill you Thor’s going to kill me.”

“He wouldn’t. He likes you too much for that. Besides, it’s not like you’d have to _tell_ him.” He opened his eyes to look at her to see that she was staring at him like he’d sprouted a second head. 

“What,” she said, “I just leave your dead body here until it starts to smell, and when he asks what happened to you, just say ‘huh, no idea, weird-”

“I’d work on the phrasing,” Loki said. 

“I take it back,” the Valkyrie said. “You’re not stupid. You’re _insane._ Forget it. I’m going to-”

“Valkyrie, please,” Loki said, the words bursting out of him. “Just - just do it. I’ve survived worse than a little - field surgery. It’ll be fine.” More silence. “ _Please,_ ” he said again. “I’ll - owe you. All the alcohol you want. Anything, name it. Just…”

He didn’t want to be pinned on his back, held down while some faceless healer cut into him. At least Valkyrie - he knew her. Enough. She might not like him but if she was going to kill him, she would do it clean. 

“All right,” she said finally, and Loki slumped. “I must be...insanity is catching, I guess. I’ll do it. But if you die on me, I’m dragging your ass back so I can kick it. Got it?” 

“Heard and understood,” Loki said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“One more problem,” she said. “I don’t think you want a concussion. I can probably go find enough alcohol to knock you flat-”

“Just do it,” Loki interrupted. 

“If you start thrashing around I _am_ going to end up gutting you,” the Valkyrie said after a brief pause. Loki squeezed his eyes closed. 

“I can hold still.” 

“I _really_ hope that’s not bravado,” she said. 

“It isn’t.” 

“You know,” the Valkyrie said after a moment, “I’m suddenly getting the feeling that there is a lot more to you than the spoiled asshole prince I pegged you for.”

Loki forced a smile. “I’m just full of surprises.” 

“I bet you are.” She paused. “All right. So we’re doing this. How about on the floor, since I’m guessing you’re going to want to sleep on the bed sometime soon and metal washes easier?” 

“Sure,” Loki said, and pushed himself up. Or tried. He made it about halfway before he had to stop, and the Valkyrie had to drag him the rest of the way onto the floor. He lay there panting, sick, and sweaty, staring up at her holding a knife, her expression grim. He closed his eyes quickly. 

“Ready?” She said, sounding closer. Loki jerked his head in a nod and braced himself, balling his hands into fists. “Right. Then let’s go.” 

* * *

They both quickly realized what they’d forgotten, and the Valkyrie got up to get him a piece of leather that she shoved between his teeth, which effectively both muffled the noise and kept him from begging her to stop. He didn’t move, though. Held perfectly still, struggling not to tremble as she carved dead flesh away from living, swearing constantly. It felt like she was digging through him, like he was a piece of game she was in the process of butchering, and he _wanted_ to pass out but couldn’t quite reach that relief. 

_Should have just left it alone,_ he thought wildly. _How bad could it be, dying slowly of infection couldn’t possibly hurt like this, she’s doing this on purpose as revenge-_

He was just hovering on the edge of what he could take, consciousness fizzing at the edges, when he heard her say, “it’s done.” Her voice sounded strange, far away. A moment later, “Loki, _breathe._ ”

He gasped out a breath and sucked another one in. It was hard to believe it was over when his entire core hurt like she was still twisting the knife in him. Hot, red pain pulsed behind his eyes.

“Loki?” She sounded almost worried. “Say something.” Almost immediately after, she touched his face. Or maybe slapped it? His skin stung a little. “ _Hey._ Answer me.” 

He forced his eyes open to look at her. “Thanks,” he said, tongue thick and clumsy. She looked pale, her face tight. 

“I think I got all of it,” she said. “You’re, uh. Bleeding a lot. I need to go find more bandages.”

“Right,” Loki said, which was about all he could manage.

“I’ll be right back.” She reached out like she was going to touch his hair, or his face, and then pulled back. “Don’t die.”

“I’ll do my best,” Loki mumbled, but his best apparently wasn’t very good because shortly after that he faded out.

* * *

The world was bright, and cold, and he didn’t really want to re-enter it, but he didn’t get much of a choice. 

“Are you actually awake now?” He heard in an exhausted sounding voice. 

“I think so,” Loki said after a moment. 

“Sounds more like it. Here.” She pushed something into his hand. “Drink it.” 

He lifted his aching head enough that he could. It was just water. It tasted like the best wine he’d ever had. 

“You’re still here,” he said, when it was gone. 

“Yeah?” She said.

“I just thought…you did what I asked.” 

“And you thought I’d just shut the door and walk away after, is that it? Leave you in a puddle of blood and cross my fingers it’d all work out? That I didn’t miss any infected tissue that’d just start growing again, that you didn’t bleed out because I might’ve nicked something important-”

“I get the impression the right answer is ‘no, I didn’t think that,’” Loki said weakly. He could almost hear her teeth grinding. “You were doing me a favor,” he said when she didn’t say anything. “I didn’t expect you to stick around for the aftercare.” 

“You’re an ass,” she said, but she sounded more tired than angry. “An ass who almost _died,_ by the way. So next time you’re hiding your _just a scratch -_ don’t.” 

“Yes, yes,” Loki said. “Lesson learned.” 

“I doubt it.” She sighed. “You’re...a real piece of work. You know?”

“I’ve been told.” 

“Yeah, I bet you have.” Loki opened his eyes to look at her and found that she was frowning at him, eyebrows knitted together like she was seeing something bothersome on his face. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she said after just a beat too long. “Just...don’t die. Right? Enough people have died in the last week. You don’t need to keep the trend going.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” Loki said, meaning it to come out flippant, but mostly it just sounded pathetic. He winced, bracing himself for the cutting reply.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know,” she said. Loki stared at her, and she shrugged. “Oh, yeah. It’s possible your brother thinks we’re sleeping together.” Loki’s eyes widened, and she smiled crookedly. “I needed an explanation for why I was spending so much time in your room. I think he thinks you’re avoiding him now, though.”

Loki groaned. “Maybe I should just stay here.” 

“Oh,” she said, sobering, “you are. At least for another day or so. You try to get up now and I’m not going to stop you from falling on your face.”

Loki contemplated whether it was worth trying to get up just to prove her wrong, and decided he would probably only manage to prove her right. Even just holding his head up had felt like too much effort. 

“So Thor doesn’t know,” he said at length.

“No,” she said after a moment. “He doesn’t. I thought you probably wouldn’t want him to, though I don’t have any idea _why._ He’d be falling all over himself to fuss over you.” 

Loki didn’t know how to explain to her that he couldn’t afford to look useless in front of Thor right now, that he needed to stay valuable, that deep down he’d been afraid Thor _wouldn’t_ care and would just tell him to deal with it on his own. So he just said, “I appreciate your not telling him.” 

The Valkyrie grunted. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not making a habit out of lying for you.”

“Ideally it won’t be necessary again.” He wanted to roll to his side and curl up, but that sounded like - a terribly painful idea.

“Ideally.” She stood up. “I need to go. I’ll stop by later with food.” Loki felt a pang of unhappiness at the idea of being alone, and almost wanted to ask her to stay. He pushed down the urge, but maybe something showed on his face because she looked at him and said, “it won’t be that long, all right?”

_Pathetic,_ he thought, but he was too tired for it to sting.

“Thank you, Valkyrie,” Loki said, closing his eyes. 

“It’s Brunnhilde,” she said suddenly. “That was my name. Before.”

Loki fell still. “Oh,” he said, after a moment. “Then...thank you, Brunnhilde.” 

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Just don’t make a habit of it.” He heard the door close. 

Loki’s entire midsection felt like someone had carved a piece out of him (which, he supposed, was accurate), but he still caught himself smiling faintly at the ceiling. 

Maybe she didn’t hate him after all.


End file.
